


Taste

by Kohnnor



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Animal Abuse, Blood and Gore, Murder, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kohnnor/pseuds/Kohnnor
Summary: A short story about Jhin's first kill.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Taste

He was running. He felt oh so strained, his body aching for a break, but he would not give in to the needs of exhaustion - his hunt needs to be perfect. His prey, so close in his grasp. The young man threw his dagger at the animal, hoping it would not miss; it did. He cussed under his breath and kept his relentless chase, closing in on the wounded deer. The animal bellowed and cried as its steps faltered, it simply fell under its clumsy, tangled, legs. He saw it tumble down, kicking and crying. It looked him in the eye.  
“I’m sorry, little fawn.” he whispered to it, placing a hand on the dagger - it hit its neck, leaving it struggling to breathe. He waited for a moment and heard the gargled inhales, blood tainting the ground. His hand twisted the knife, and he smiled sickly at the high-pitched bellow the poor creature sang. Palming his sheaths, he got out two more knives, holding them in both his hands. He turned the deer on its back and stabbed it in the eyes, a grin painted across his face. “Such an ugly voice.” He channeled his magic through the daggers and as he pulled out the fourth knife, it seemed as they would seal the wounds around them, leaving the animal struggling and kicking out of despair for its own life beneath its attacker. He stabbed the doe in its belly, and began twisting and cutting on it, trying to repurpose its flesh - he had to make a sculpture out of something so earthly and boorish. Art exists to make everything beautiful, and his own craft shall conquer nature's own insult at beauty. Not long after, the life force left the deer, giving up on its battle for life. “The silence after the crescendo.” he exhaled, enjoying it.  
Khada Jhin rose above the carcass of his artwork and admired it. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, accidentally smudging some blood on his hair. “Ugh,” he looked at his palms. He looked around the area and noticed there was a small creek running through the dense forest. He sunk his limbs into the water and let the cool liquid wash over his skin. Jhin washed his hands four times and did the same to his hair and face.  
He returned to his purposeless hunt and retrieved his daggers. He took out a cloth and wiped the first knife one time, then once more, and yet again, and again. He repeated this process for the other three; he had to make sure they were clean. His muscles were aching, yet he didn’t want to go home. Chases like these used to calm the calling he felt, a whisper in the back of his mind. Sometimes, it was quiet, but sometimes, it rang so loud in his head that the only way he can silence it is to give in to the need to create through destruction. Through killing. Through art. Through power. So far, it had been stifled through animals - yet, this time, a simple thoughtless, emotionless caricature of meat such as a deer proved to be insufficient. Jhin pinched the bridge of his nose; he felt nauseous.  
He looked for hours on end for another animal to kill, and with each passing minute and missing target, he felt more and more desperate to calm his inner storm. He shed a tear, suffocating with inspiration. There were no outlets to channel his energy to - unless…

Jhin stormed back into the village where he lived. The young man stalked the small market and dodged the people standing in his way, pacing through with great haste.  
A woman had called out his name. His real name. Her voice was familiar.  
He stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists, walking up to her. “Yes, madam.” he bowed before her to acknowledge their meeting. It was a greeting far too formal for the lady, yet Jhin would treat your average peasant just the same as he would treat a king. He looked at her old wrinkled face and the lust for creation ran through his veins still; “What if,” he thought.  
“Be a dearie and take these to your ‘pa, will you boy?” her creaky voice asked of him.  
He could not hear her words, he could only hear the way she would sing.  
“Are you listening?” she handed him a basket of fruit, pushing it to his arms.  
Jhin snapped out of his trance, and the world had never felt more gray and dull in that moment. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His imagination is all but those things, and more. He slightly pressed his lips in a line, looking at her with a serious gaze.  
“On you go.” she waved him off. “What a strange boy,” she murmured to herself as he walked away. She turned her back to him and began tending to her stall again.  
He looked at the basket of fruit he held in his arms, taking a piece and biting into it. So tasteless, so ripe, so drenchingly dreadful. He was hungry, but not for food. His silhouette quickly faded into the distance and he abandoned the basket. He pulled out the knife, looking at it, and slid down against the walls of a fence. Jhin sat down, fidgeting with the blade. His world felt empty, there was no purpose in his life, no vision. He knew the thing he was missing was something that was frowned upon, taboo even, but he couldn’t help but want it.  
Killing.  
Taking a life.  
Drenching his hands in blood.  
Dancing to the sounds of screams.  
Making her beautiful, offering her a show that she’ll never forget.  
Performing on a stage so large, it felt like conquering death itself, taming it to his whims.  
He wanted it all. He wanted her life.  
He wanted the world.  
Will it be enough?  
  
Jhin clenched his teeth and sat in the loud silence of his mind as the evening fell upon the mystical land of Ionia. He waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. His heart beat faster and faster with every thoughtful thread of patience being torn away from his will.  
Then, quietness washed over him.  
He covered his weapons and tore a piece of his sash, wrapping it around his neck. Jhin walked back to the markets where the old lady was, and saw her close up shop. He walked up to her and took another look at her face. Gods, her make up was so gaudy, so kitsch.  
She looked him up and down, “Can I help you?” she spoke to him before returning to her work, paying him no mind.  
“No, thank you.” he weakly spoke. He met her gaze briefly; he cleared his throat. “I was actually hoping to help you.” Jhin spoke proudly.  
The woman chuckled, “‘Tis fine, deary. Go home.” she endearingly told him.  
Jhin simply sat still, staring at her.  
“Are you alright in the head, did you not hear me? Off with ye.”  
He didn’t respond. He simply stood there.  
“Leave.”  
He groaned beneath his breath, turning around on his heel. He took advantage of the night that had now fallen over the market, and hid himself behind a stall not far from hers, gazing from a darkened corner. He watched her finally leave and began stalking her from afar, the act of it was far too easy and familiar to him - he was used to hunting down his prey like this, all too careful not to scare it away prematurely. Jhin knew when he wanted a chase, and this was not the time; he wanted to savour it. He made his footsteps louder as to purposefully draw attention to him, and hid away when the old lady turned around.  
“Is anyone there?” she asked. There was a sense of dread building within her but she quickly brushed it off, remembering that Ionia was a peaceful land, and thinking that it must have been the wind. She continued walking.  
Jhin dropped off little hints of his presence here and now while he tailed her, and delighted in the sense of paranoia that became more and more obvious within her demeanor - she was turning around frequently, she looked around a lot and she tried to find things to defend herself with. He chuckled darkly to himself, counting his steps in quartet groups.  
A sense of calm overtook her when she saw her home, a feeling that didn’t last too long; it was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. She turned around, and saw a young man with a cloth over his face, his features concealed. “Youngin’, don’t be scaring a lady like that!” she sighed in relief, but she noticed he held a dagger in his hand. “Now, now, put that away before you hurt yourself.”  
Jhin laughed at her, “Silly old hag, do you honestly think so?” he scoffed.  
She put a hand on her chest, flabbergasted at his language. She recognized his voice.  
He took a few steps towards her, cornering her against the door of her home. He walked up to her and pressed the tip of the knife against her chin, and felt nervous at the way she was scrambling for her keys. He smiled at her and held them up in his hand, taunting her with them. His face was so close to hers, he could feel her quickened breath on his face. “Sing for me.” he whispered. He pressed the dagger into the skin and heard her whimper. “Yes,” he hissed, biting his lip and smiling. “So much better,” he sunk it in deeper, feeling her weak hands wrap around his. “Louder.”  
She began crying and moving her head around cutting her own skin in the frantic movements of her panic. “Let me go,” she begged between tears and mewls. “Please.”  
Jhin realized he liked the way she pleaded for her life. He kicked her shins and brought her to her knees, then he pinned her to the ground. “Cry for me.” he spoke between clenched teeth. His dagger cut along her throat, and he dug his thumb in the wound while holding her neck, digits drenched in the sloppy liquid. He sighed in pleasure, the blood felt so beautiful on his fingertips, so perfect. Jhin lost himself in the opera of her dying breaths and screams, but he quickly realized he might have killed her prematurely. He withdrew his hand in panic and desperately tried to stop the bleeding; “Don’t die,” he breathed out. “I’m not quite done with you.”  
She looked at him as the light was leaving her eyes. Her blurry vision could only see the reflection of the moon in the next two blades he pulled out, before her own world darkened.  
Jhin twisted the knives in the eye sockets and tried to elicit the last few moans of life out of her, her husk was barely moving, and her hands weakly caressing his own in protest. “What a loving touch,” he smiled at her. He mimicked the previous kill he had today, but nothing could compare with taking a human life now. He pulled out his last knife; this feeling was so new to him, despite being a familiar act. He ripped through her clothes and began working her skin and flesh into a sculpture of his own vision. The magic within the daggers made it so that the illusion of floral decor and motifs hung above the carnage of his own doing. He kept twisting, turning, cutting. He kept going on and on, tormenting a canvas that was so overworked. Jhin’s taste was exquisite, and none could ever do the things he did. He was proud of himself in this moment, having realized the thing he had done. He kissed his muse on the forehead and withdrew his daggers from her corpse, admiring… himself. He was within his work. Jhin’s mind was finally quiet, if only briefly, and he revelled in the way blood glistened in the moonlight. Her corpse was slowly dissipating into a smokey mist, as if it was burning from nothing. Ashes of his love. He sat in silence for a moment, at peace with himself.   
It was not long until his mind whipped the need for more into his will. “ **FOUR, THERE NEEDS TO BE FOUR.** ” He wanted it again, he needed it again. One was not enough. He had gotten a taste for it, and now death’s flavor lingered on his tongue. Jhin ached for it, longed for it.  
  
_Killing._  
 _Taking lives._  
 _Drenching his hands in blood._  
 _Dancing to the sounds of screams._  
 _Making them beautiful, offering them a show that they’ll never forget._  
 _Performing on a stage so large, it felt like conquering death itself, taming it to his whims._  
 _He wanted it all. He wanted their lives._  
 _He wanted the world._  
 _And it will never, ever, be enough._


End file.
